The Chemistry of Love
by inukagome15
Summary: For the Reverse Big Bang. Chemistry: the science that deals with the composition and properties of substances and various elementary forms of matter. Or, alternatively, the interaction of one personality with another, e.g., Steve Rogers and his absolutely pathetic crush on his chemistry TA, Tony Stark.


**For the Reverse Big Bang over at LiveJournal. The artist I chose was horizon_labs. Her really cute and gorgeous art can be found at at the links below (edit as needed).  
**

**This is the original artwork: **horizonlabs dot livejournal dot com/815 dot html

**And this is the title page: ** horizonlabs dot livejournal dot com/1255 dot html

**I meant to post this earlier today, but alas, unforeseen circumstances got into my way. I don't think this is my best work, but college AUs aren't really my thing, although I wanted to give it a shot.**

**My beta for this is _ellex42. _Due to her feedback (received after I initially posted this), I'm going to go back and edit this thing extensively so I'm more pleased with it. Because I'm not.  
**

**The Chemistry of**** Love****:** Chemistry: the science that deals with the composition and properties of substances and various elementary forms of matter. Or, alternatively, the interaction of one personality with another, e.g., Steve Rogers and his absolutely pathetic crush on his chemistry TA, Tony Stark.

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own this franchise.**

* * *

**The Chemistry of Love**

* * *

_He is unable to relate to his peers…_

_ …socially maladjusted…_

_ …classic case of textbook narcissism, believes no one else can compare…_

_ …clearly harbors sociopathic tendencies Advised legal guardian…_

_ …Insecure and harbors low self-worth. Highly defensive…_

_ Taking into account previous records, I recommend that he interact more with his own peer group to better his social skills. The "parties" and "alcohol mixers" are not appropriate avenues for a 19-year-old…_

Huffing lightly as he dismissed the files he'd hacked into (his _own_ files, but that didn't mean what he was doing was legal), Tony sat back in his chair, gazing up at the ceiling as he considered what he had just done courtesy of what numerous psychologists had told Obadiah. Impulsively contacting Dr. Curt Connors to ask if Tony could be a TA for his general chemistry course was perhaps not the best idea Tony had ever had, but he knew Connors, and chemistry was so easy he could do it in his sleep.

He would've done his grad studies at MIT, but his parents had died unexpectedly. Now he was stuck doing them via correspondence courses while he slummed it here in New York City at Empire State University. And it was _slumming_ because he was actually staying in a residence on-campus because he didn't want to be around Obadiah whenever he wasn't designing stuff, helping Connors, or doing his own studies, which would've been maybe three hours out of the whole day, but even that was too much.

Sure, Obadiah was his pseudo-father since Howard had so epically dropped the ball on that, but there were only so many phone calls he could eavesdrop on before his faith in the man was sorely tested.

The last conversation he'd overheard had been perhaps either the most hurtful or the funniest depending on Tony's mood when he thought about it. Right now, it was pretty damn hilarious.

_"Have you seen the reports, Stane?"_

_ "Of course I have."_

_ "What are you planning on doing about it?"_

_ "Tony is fine. He's just as brilliant as his father – if not more so."_

_ "He's **nineteen**."_

_ "He doesn't know when to keep his mouth shut."_

_ "We can't have him helming the business like this."_

_ "And he isn't, gentlemen. You know the deal; he takes over when he's twenty-one."_

_ "Damn Howard for dying when he did."_

Obadiah had said nothing to the last line, but Tony had heard a sigh before he'd shut his very illegal eavesdropping device off. He didn't really need to listen to what else the board of directors was going to say, since he already knew that he would have to make concessions so they wouldn't throw even more of a fuss when he took over in a few years. Publicly they'd be fine with him being CEO, but the world of business was so messy behind the scenes…

So he'd looked up the contact information for Connors, and now Tony was Connors's TA. They'd managed to keep this information on the down-low, since while the university was kind of ecstatic to have Tony Stark on campus, it didn't want the paparazzi camping out on its lawns 24/7. Neither did Tony, since that just cramped his style.

Rhodey had wished him luck when hearing what Tony was going to do (or rather wished the poor bastards Tony was going to help teach good luck), but had then gone to enlist in the Air Force. That just left Pepper and Bruce in easy reach. And while Pepper was totally cool (and kind of scary), she didn't understand the pain of being a brilliant TA teaching general chemistry to a class full of lame nitwits. Bruce did, but then he also didn't have Tony's blunt tongue, so he just hummed along with whatever Tony said.

But while chemistry was so boring Tony could do it in his sleep, he hadn't anticipated that one of the students would actually catch his attention. And in more than a "Oh, hi, you're _brilliant_" kind of way. Because while Tony thought brains were just sexy, he totally went for the whole "You're too cute for your own good, stop blushing" thing, too.

And to think it had just taken an epic face plant to start the most beautiful relationship of his life.

* * *

Steve Rogers was an art major at Empire State University. His high school counselor had told him that there wasn't a great deal to do with an art degree in the current economy, but his mom had always said he should follow his dreams.

But just in case, he added a communications minor so he would have a fallback in case his planned career didn't work out. He'd always communicated well with other people, and if he couldn't become an artist, he'd need the minor to get into web design, which was another field of interest for him.

Bucky was undecided at the university, claiming that he'd join the army once he was sure that Steve was well on his way to becoming a renowned artist. Steve thought it was a waste of money to go to college if you were planning on dropping out anyway, but had kept his opinion to himself since Bucky would just frown at him and point out that if Steve still couldn't hold his own in a fight, Bucky couldn't leave him on his own.

And Steve never _planned_ on getting into any fights. But they did tend to find him rather easily because he refused to run, preferring to stand his ground instead. Unfortunately, because of his frail nature, he usually hit the ground within the first five seconds. Unless Bucky was there; in that case the other guy hit the ground.

So Bucky and Steve were a package, and they remained a package at Empire State University, even rooming together in the dorms because Bucky had an in with one of the RAs. Steve had art classes Bucky didn't take, but they were together in all the other core classes required.

Bucky wanted to date and meet girls. And considering how suave he could be, Steve thought he'd have gone through five girlfriends by the time the semester was over.

Steve thought he'd be lucky if he managed to make it to the end of the semester without pissing anyone off because he seemed to have a talent at making others see red. So while dating was evidently not in the cards for him – not that he particularly _cared_, but Bucky would try to set him up on blind dates, and that just sucked – Steve thought he should just keep his head down and try not to piss anyone off.

Of course, Steve being Steve, he didn't manage to keep this resolution for even a week. On the plus side, he hadn't pissed the guy off. On the negative side, he was totally and completely screwed.

Because if he was thinking about the 21st century's biggest genius mind as "cute" and blushed like a fire engine whenever he was around him, Steve knew he had problems.

* * *

"Steve," Bucky said, "have you looked at the syllabus for Connor's class?"

"No." He was too busy looking at his very fat chemistry textbook and wondering if it would be in bad taste to drop the class now. He was an art major. They didn't need chemistry, right?

Bucky plunked himself down on Steve's bed next to him, laptop in his lap. "Before you set the book on fire, take a look at who our TA is."

Setting the book aside, Steve turned his attention to the laptop, eyes focusing on the top of the screen where Curt Connor's contact information was listed along with his office hours. Directly besides his information was that of his TA. Who appeared to be Tony Stark.

"You're joking," Steve said.

"I'm just as bad with tech as you, Steve," Bucky said, clearly lying because _no one_ was as bad with tech as Steve was. He'd somehow fried his last phone just trying to text his mom. "I didn't do anything to this. Tony Stark is our chemistry TA."

"I thought he went to MIT?"

"He graduated about a year ago."

"Why's he here?"

"His company's here," Bucky said as if that was all the answer he needed. "Maybe he needs to be close, considering he's the CEO and all. I don't know, Steve. But he's our _TA_. Can you imagine how cool it's going to be?" His voice was vibrating with barely concealed excitement.

"Awesome," Steve said, looking askance at his textbook. Tony Stark or not, he was still not looking forward to the class. But if he dropped it now, Bucky would never forgive him.

"You're not dropping it," Bucky said, apparently reading his mind. "If you do, I'll blow the lab up."

And he would. He'd come very close to doing so in high school numerous times even though it shouldn't have been possible.

"I'm not," Steve assured him quickly. "First class tomorrow?"

"History." Bucky sighed with disgust. Then he brightened. "But Stark in the afternoon. It's going to be _awesome_."

* * *

"Awesome" was not the word Steve would have used to describe their very first chemistry class. "Boring" was a better word for it, especially since all Connors did was go over the class requirements and the syllabus. Steve didn't even see Tony Stark, which disappointed him because that was the reason he was sitting here with Bucky and not currently in his room because he'd dropped the class to take it another semester when he felt more prepared to suffer through chemistry.

So when Connors let the class go two minutes early with the promise of seeing them Wednesday, Steve gathered up his copy of the syllabus which he'd been doodling on out of boredom. He may or may not have drawn Connors as a lizard. It might've been the fact that the professor only had one arm.

Due to Bucky's eagerness to see Tony Stark, they'd gotten front row seats. This naturally meant that they had to wait behind everyone else before they could leave since the exits of the lecture hall were in the back.

Or Steve did anyway, because Bucky had gone ahead and shoved his way through anyways, calling for Steve to follow. Which he might've managed if a gaggle of girls with very large bags hadn't gotten in his way. Being a gentleman, he remained patiently waiting behind them.

By the time he managed to make his way to the door, Bucky had disappeared and he was being pushed from behind by some really beefy guys who seemed to be in a hurry. Usually this wouldn't have been a problem, since Steve was sadly very used to being pushed around, but today he was also toting his art portfolio, so that when one of them pushed past him to rush out of the room, he lost his balance and tipped over, falling into the lap of a guy who was still seated.

Steve promptly flushed red, feeling the blood rush to his cheeks in mortification. He wasn't easily embarrassed, but his _hand_ was on the guy's _crotch_. ("Dick, Steve," Bucky said in his head. "You can say it. Your hand is on his dick. …Is he packing?") "S-sorry," Steve stammered, struggling to get up, only to lose his balance as his portfolio got caught in another seat. This time he tipped over face first into the guy's crotch.

When he tried to get up again, speechless with mortification, the guy helped steady him. That was when Steve got a good look at him and promptly died of embarrassment again because he was _gorgeous_.

The other guy had a flirty grin on his face, saying, "If you wanted to offer a blowjob, you just had to ask."

"Sorry," Steve managed to say in a rather high-pitched voice. "It was an accident."

The guy laughed, and the sound made Steve want to melt into the steps. "Yeah, I noticed. Maybe carry less stuff around?"

"Right." This time Steve's voice was notably more normal much to his everlasting relief. He really didn't want this incredibly gorgeous stranger that he'd just groped to think he was a prepubescent teenager.

"Tony," Connors called, "do you mind helping me out before the next class comes in?"

"Sure thing, Doctor." Tony flashed a dumbstruck Steve one last smile before easily stepping over the seat below him and heading down.

Still stunned, Steve slowly turned and exited the lecture hall, running into Bucky as he did.

"I thought you were right behind me," Bucky said. He blinked, seeming to notice Steve's state. "You okay?"

Steve blinked back, managing a nod in response. His mind was still stuck on the fact that he'd apparently just face planted into _Tony Stark's_ lap. And that he had a raging crush on him.

He should really drop this class.

Next time.

After he saw Tony again.

* * *

"He's smaller than I expected," was the first thing Bucky said when he saw Tony at the beginning of the next chemistry class.

Steve didn't say anything, as he was too busy trying not to stare down at Tony. Unfortunately, it did nothing to dim his memory of face planting into the guy's crotch, which left his cheeks feeling faintly hot.

At least now there was no chance of Tony seeing him, as Steve was all the way in the back of the class. He was just another face among a hundred or so students, and the lighting wasn't even all that good back here. And he was tiny and unnoticeable. He should be _fine_—

Oh shit, oh shit, _oh shit_. Tony was looking right at him. No, wait, was he looking at Bucky?

No, Tony was looking at Steve with those gorgeous brown eyes of his – stop being sappy! – and beamed broadly upon realizing he had Steve's undivided attention. Then as Connors introduced Tony, the TA smiled charmingly, still looking right at Steve with eyes that seemed to stare right into his soul.

…Okay, Steve was completely and utterly screwed if he was thinking like a poet now.

Or maybe he was just being ridiculously paranoid because there was no way Tony would be smiling at _him_ like that. There was a gorgeous girl sitting right in front of him a row down; maybe Tony was smiling at _her_. But Tony was still looking at him – but why should he even remember Steve? He was _Tony Stark_; he had better things to do than remember the face of the guy who had accidentally groped him.

But Tony was still smiling at him like that – _why was he smiling like that?_ – and Steve didn't know what to do because his face was burning hot, and he must be as red as a tomato by now, and heshould really stop thinking because even his thoughts were becoming an incoherent run-on sentence.

Bucky seemed to notice Steve's predicament, as he leaned over to whisper in a concerned voice, "You okay?"

Despite the fact that Steve's heart was fluttering like a baby bird and he couldn't breathe properly due to sheer nerves, he sounded remarkably calm as he answered, "Yes."

Bucky didn't sound at all convinced. "You look like you have a fever."

Steve managed to tear his eyes from Tony's to look over at Bucky, swallowing as he said, "It's just hot."

"Right." Bucky's eyes drifted over to the girl several rows down and to the right who was wearing a winter jacket and scarf.

"It is."

"I don't need to call nine-one-one, do I? I didn't know a person could turn that shade of red. What did you do?"

"I didn't do anything!" Steve hissed, finally managing to quell the furious blush that had given him away ever since Tony had _smiled_ at _him_ and oh, God, he'd practically _groped_ the man – and wasn't that harassment? – so how could Tony even _smile_…okay, Steve, _calm down_.

"No," Bucky disagreed, "you did _something_." He glanced down at where Connors was in full-fledged lecture mode, rambling about protons and ions and chemical bonds and whatever else chemistry was about; Steve wasn't sure at this point. "It happened Monday, didn't it? When you looked like you'd seen a ghost that came on to you?"

Steve stared, because there was honestly no response for that. "A _ghost_?"

"It was Stark, wasn't it?" Bucky guessed shrewdly, glancing back down again, this time at where Tony was now sitting. "What did he do?"

Connors was asking something about chemical bonds, voice echoing through the microphone he was wearing, and Steve had absolutely no clue what was going on. And since he didn't want to fail, he pleaded, "Later?"

"Fine." Bucky didn't look at all happy, but did settle back into his seat, eyes either glued to Connors or the hot girls sitting next to Tony.

"Later" for Steve unfortunately meant barely an hour later once they were in their dorm room and away from any listening ears. In that time, Steve had managed to avoid embarrassing himself further in front of his newfound crush, but Bucky wasn't letting it go.

"'Fess up," he demanded, joining Steve on his bed and leaning into his personal space. "What happened to get your panties in a twist?"

"My underwear is fine," Steve said indignantly, stiffening before he could stop himself.

"I'm just teasing," Bucky said, rolling his eyes. "And don't think I've forgotten about your big secret. Hit me with it."

Hesitating slightly, Steve glanced over to the chemistry textbook he'd only briefly skimmed through. Sure, Bucky would probably end up cackling like a loon, but he'd also give Steve his support. It was just that Steve never exactly liked admitting to his failures. And tripping over his own feet to land in Tony Stark's lap was a failure.

"I sat in his lap," Steve blurted out.

Bucky blinked. "What?"

"It was an accident! I just kind of tripped, and fell into him—"

"You fell into _Tony Stark's_ lap?"

"I said sat."

"You meant fall," Bucky pointed out with all the wisdom of years of friendship. "What did you do, Steve? Grope the guy?"

Steve didn't answer, but his traitorous ears did it for him as they burned with embarrassment.

"Oh my God…" Bucky was grinning so broadly that it looked painful. "You _didn't_."

"It was an accident!"

"How'd it happen? Details, Steve!"

Steve glared at his friend, but it didn't seem to do anything to quell Bucky's curiosity. Finally, he said through gritted teeth, "I fell over."

Bucky squinted. "I thought I just heard you say you fell into Tony Stark's lap. You mean you didn't purposefully trip over your shoelaces just to cop a feel?"

"No!" Steve protested indignantly.

"Oh." Bucky looked ridiculously disappointed. "Well…was it at least good?"

Steve's only response was to chuck that damned chemistry textbook at Bucky's head.

* * *

So the first week of assisting in Connors's class wasn't as bad as Tony had expected it to be. Monday had been the highlight of the week with that blond kid falling right into his lap. He didn't think he'd ever seen anybody blush that shade of red before.

It'd been adorable, and Tony couldn't help but grin at the kid on Wednesday. The epic blush that had elicited had been just as amusing. Unfortunately, the kid – Steve Rogers according to the attendance sheet Tony had looked at – had kept his eyes fixed on Connors the entire class, giving Tony no opportunities to coax any more blushes from him.

But then, not _everything_ was boring. Making up class plans for the labs was taking up a lot of his concentration, if only because he had to remember to dumb everything down. Connors had kindly taken a look at his two previous drafts before informing him that this was general chemistry, not the more advanced levels.

And then there was Obadiah to talk to.

Like now.

"_The board's asking for new weapons designs,_" Obadiah was saying.

Tony hummed lightly, one eye on his computer as it churned out mathematical formulas and the other on the printer as it spat out the paper he needed for the first lab session. "They'll get it," he said reassuringly. "Haven't you given them the designs for the cell phone?"

"_Yes,_" Obadiah said, "_but we're a company that manufactures weapons, not cell phones._"

"Always good to branch out, isn't it?" Tony asked brightly, leaning over to grab the first of many sheets from the panting printer.

"_Tony—_"

"Obie, you know I'm working here. The agreement was that you'll be acting CEO until I'm twenty-one. I'll help out as much as I can, but I need to get the work done so the board doesn't think I'm completely wet behind the ears."

"_That's not going to change,_" Obadiah said.

"Lovely," Tony said. "Then at least give me the time to get the degree so they have less to whine about. It gives me hives."

"_Tony._" The word was nothing but disapproval.

Tony sighed, adjusted the phone so it was held between his ear and shoulder, and began pulling up the designs for the latest weapon he had been thinking of, saying as he did, "I'll send over what I've got so far on my latest project, but it's not done yet. You have no idea how much work this teaching assistant gig is."

"_I'm running a company._"

"This is _boring_. It's not even _advanced_ chemistry."

Obadiah chuckled softly. "_I see the problem._" His tone was amused, though. His next statement was brisk. "_I'll be expecting those designs, Tony._"

"Yep, okay. Bye." Tony hung up and threw the phone over his shoulder onto the bed. It was a piece of junk that was years behind his own design, but if the board couldn't see that that was too bad.

War wouldn't always be a lucrative endeavor. The time would come that people would get tired of it, become wary of those that created the weapons, and call for an end to it. And when that time came, Stark Industries would topple unless it opened up other avenues of production.

Like personal electronics, which Tony loved fiddling around with.

Of course, if he couldn't figure out a way to dumb down his lab plans so that students could at least get a B, then all his plans would be moot.

Being a genius could be so tedious.

* * *

Steve would've been perfectly happy just nursing his very ill-advised crush in secret, but this was difficult – if not impossible – for several reasons. One, Tony seemed to make it a point to sit in plain view of the entire class and smile at Steve at least once every class. Two, Steve had completely forgotten – or at least let it slip his mind – that Tony was supervising lab sessions.

And since lab sessions consisted of about ten students, that meant Steve was guaranteed at least some face time with his crush, who looked ridiculously hot in a white lab coat and goggles. The only upside was that Bucky didn't have the same lab that he did, meaning Steve didn't have to suffer his exaggerated winks and waggling eyebrows. He got enough of that every chemistry class whenever Tony flashed a broad smile his way, and Steve knew he didn't look _that_ cute in a white lab coat two sizes too big for him and goggles too big for his face.

Besides, the first lab session they had was so awful Steve wanted to bury himself under his bed covers and just never come out.

They'd been assigned lab partners the very first session. Steve had ended up with a kid named Peter with horribly geeky glasses, an atrocious case of bed hair, and clumsiness that threatened to give them a failing grade right off the bat. The only thing that saved them were said partner's unnaturally quick reflexes; Steve figured that was just par for the course if you were unusually clumsy and kept dropping things.

If only his hormones had that same sense of self-preservation when it came to Tony Stark. Because it was _not_ happening. He was a little shrimp who got beat up all during high school. Tony was a genius billionaire who made headlines whenever he bought a new suit. Any chance of a relationship between the two just did not _compute_. Steve might suck at math, but he knew enough to be able to figure that out.

But that didn't stop his stupid heart from fluttering when Tony addressed the class after they'd received their partner assignments. "All right, kiddos. Here's how it's going to work: you will read the directions"—he held up a sheet of paper—"follow them to the letter because I don't want to explain how I poisoned the entire classroom, and let me know if there are any problems, capiche?"

A woman raised her hand. "Mr. Stark—"

"Tony." He flashed that damned smile that had Steve flushing and looking down at his shoes. "I insist."

"Tony," she amended, "will we be handling volatile ingredients?"

"That's entirely up to Dr. Connors, isn't it? But since this is _general_ chemistry, I don't think anyone has to worry about creating the next atomic bomb in here. Because that would be bad."

"But you can't actually create an atomic bomb with this," Steve's lab partner spoke up, gesturing around the room. "Maybe a noxious smell—"

"Sure thing, Peter. And I think we'll start by learning how to make the room smell like nasty gym socks that haven't been washed in a year. Directions are by the beakers. Let's get started!"

"Cool," Peter said, reaching for a tube of blue stuff, and Steve thought he'd be yearning for solo assignments in no time if his partner was that eager for a stupid class no one needed.

* * *

"How'd it go?" Bucky asked as Steve closed the room door.

"We made the room smell like dirty gym socks," Steve said, throwing his backpack into his bed while setting his art materials down more carefully.

Bucky blinked. "Okay—"

"And my lab partner may or may not be insane," Steve said. "He was taking pictures of our work and muttering physics equations under his breath. Or it might have been the digits of pi. I'm not sure."

Bucky was silent for a moment. Then, he slowly offered, "At least it's over?"

"Until next week." Steve gave him a pointed look. "You have him tomorrow."

This time there was a broad grin over his friend's face. "I'm gonna ask him for his phone number, since you were too much of a chicken to do so—" He was silenced by a pillow to the face.

This resulted in a small pillow fight that was broken up by Peggy, their terrifying RA with a smoking British accent. Bucky did ask her for her phone number. His answer was another pillow to the face.

"She is hot," he said when she'd left.

"She's off limits," Steve said. "And so is Tony. He's our TA."

Bucky made a face. "Live a little, Steve! He'll only be our TA this semester. He's up for grabs after. Besides, who says a little flirting during office hours is bad?"

"Common courtesy."

"Your notions of 'common courtesy' went out of date in the forties."

Steve rolled his eyes and shoved a sheaf of papers at Bucky. "Help me figure this out."

Bucky furrowed his brow as he looked down the exercise Connors had given them. "This isn't due 'til next week."

"And I have sketches due in my art classes along with an essay for English. Just help me with it."

"Fine." Bucky looked pointedly at Steve. "But I expect _results_ the next time you have some one on one time with Stark."

"Sure." Steve smiled placidly as Bucky pulled out a pen and flicked open the textbook. He had no intention of interacting more with Tony than he absolutely needed to. His crush could stay where it was: locked in a tight chest that kept rattling every time Tony smiled at him. It would be hard, but he could do it.

He hadn't been called the Captain back in Brooklyn for nothing.

* * *

"Bruuuccce." Tony plopped himself down in the seat across from Bruce, barely distracting his friend from his microscope.

"Tony," Bruce returned placidly.

Tony exhaled huffily and leaned forward, resting his chin on his arms as he laid them on the table. "Bruce."

"Tony."

"Bruuuccce. That can't possibly be more interesting than your friend."

"It's very interesting."

"Tell me something new."

Bruce didn't even look up from the microscope as he said, "The Higgs-Boson particle doesn't exist."

"I said something _new_, not a _lie_."

"You can live without your appendix."

Tony blinked. "Now _that _I didn't know."

There was a faint exasperated sigh from Bruce, and he finally pushed away the microscope to focus fully on Tony. "Was there something you wanted?"

Tony was quiet for a moment, considering. Then: "Chemistry is a _bitch_."

Bruce sighed. "Tony."

"That's three times you've said my name now," Tony pointed out.

"Because you need it," Bruce said. He didn't seem to empathize at all, which was ridiculous since Tony had given him lesson plans to look over while bemoaning how difficult it was to dumb it down for the common man. "I did tell you not to take the job."

"Connors is cool," Tony insisted. "But more to the point, you know Peter Parker?"

"Isn't he the son of that one biochemist you won't shut up about?"

"Hey." Tony straightened, affronted. "Dr. Parker is a very respected figure in his field. You could learn a lot from him."

"I _have_." Bruce looked pointedly at his microscope.

Tony exhaled loudly. "Sometimes I wonder." He slumped over again. "_Anyway_, I've got his son in class. He's smart as a whip."

"To be expected," Bruce said. "But he's not what you wanted to talk about."

"Nooo." Tony grinned, straightening slightly but still leaning over the table. "First day of class, a student face planted right into my lap."

Bruce frowned. "What?"

"I know!" Tony leaned in, grinning. "He blushes like a fire engine every time I so much smile at him. It's adorable."

"Do you even know his name? Or have you just been calling him Fire Engine the whole time?"

Tony smirked. "You know me too well, Bruce. But, no, I've got his name. It's Steve. He's Peter's lab partner."

Bruce narrowed his eyes. "Romantic relationships between TAs and students are also against the rules, Tony."

Tony tilted his head to the side. "Who said anything about relationships?"

"I can read you like a book."

"He's eye candy, okay? Kinda skinny and small, but he's cute."

"Your definition of 'eye candy' is 'Let's have sex.'"

"But not in this case!" Tony leaned so far over the table he was practically in Bruce personal space. "I'm honing my social skills, getting to know my peers. And he's a peer, albeit a really hot one."

Bruce peered at him, not at all perturbed at the violation of personal space. "I don't think that this is what they meant by bettering your social skills," he said calmly.

"Too bad. Because this is what they're going to get."

Bruce did lean back then, rolling his eyes heavenward (or toward the bland white ceiling). "God save us all."

"God doesn't exist, but I hear they're accepting applicants for His position."

"I think I hear Pepper calling for you."

"Aaand that's my cue to leave. Have fun being all science-y."

* * *

Much to Steve's dismay, his lab partner didn't become any less insane with time. In fact, he only seemed to get worse, partly because Peter refused to let Steve do much of anything, instead hogging the whole table to himself. Then again, Steve had messed up their second assignment by pouring hydroxide rather than peroxide, and now he couldn't redeem himself since Peter was too scared he would do it again.

And since Peter tended to make Steve hold everything he couldn't, Tony didn't seem to notice that Steve wasn't doing much of anything to contribute. Truth be told, Steve didn't much regret that he didn't get to do anything – even if part of the fun of chemistry was actually being able to _make_ stuff – but it wasn't really helping his grade much.

He was an art major, not a scientist!

"Fill up half of the rest," Peter told him, handing over a beaker of some unidentifiable blue liquid that smelled like rotten eggs and almost made Steve gag.

"You sure about that?" Steve muttered sarcastically, taking the beaker and obligingly filling up half of the tube, which was already filled with a pink substance that smelled like cherries.

Peter peered at the end result before glancing back at the steps Tony had laid out; they looked like meaningless gibberish to Steve, being nothing but arcane chemistry symbols, so he just sat back and let Peter direct his movements while he watched the magic happen.

As it turned out, he wasn't the only one who had been watching Peter. Tony held him back after the session was over, going around and peeling off the papers he'd stuck to the tables as he had Steve wait.

Steve squirmed uncomfortably, aware that his ears and neck were burning. If he was lucky his face wouldn't turn red; if he was unlucky…

"Steve, right?" Tony's voice startled him out of his thoughts, resulting in that dreaded blush he'd been hoping to avoid.

"Yes," Steve said, pleased his voice didn't croak.

"You're currently holding a C in class," Tony said, arms folded and a hip braced against the table Steve was sitting next to, "and an A in here."

"Um…yay?" Steve wasn't sure where he was going with this.

"We're going to start doing labs without partners next week," Tony continued. "I'm curious to see if you'll keep that grade up."

Steve's heart sank into his shoes as his mouth dried up. "I'm not sure where you're going with this," he said slowly, wetting his lips as he spoke.

"Peter's a real genius," Tony said, not answering his question. "But he can be a bit overbearing."

"Right." Steve managed to stop the "Duh" from coming out.

"So you're probably not managing to get all that much work done," Tony said, smiling brightly.

Steve stared, heart thumping in his ears. So Tony had seen? Of _course_ Tony had seen. He was the generation's brightest mind. There was no way he could have missed Steve trying to ride on Peter's figurative coattails.

"Just to let you know," Tony was saying, catching Steve's attention, "I have office hours if you need help. I can also tutor you."

"I don't have the money," Steve blurted.

"The university is paying me to teach you guys," Tony pointed out, sounding amused. "It'd be pretty unethical of me to ask you for money for doing my job."

"Um…" Steve swallowed, eyes darting over to the door. Could he leave now? "I have your e-mail if I need help."

Tony smiled slowly at him, tilting his head slightly. "Of course you do." Then, very slowly, he winked.

Steve couldn't help it: he flushed beet red. Mortified at his reaction, he blurted out really quickly, "IhaveclasscanIgo?"

Tony blinked. "What?"

"Class," Steve said desperately, trying not to run his words together again. "Can I…?"

"Oh, sure." Tony shrugged, chucking the papers he'd been clutching into the paper bin by the door. "See you in class, Steve."

Steve was already halfway out the door and running past another student by the time he called back, "Yep!"

* * *

"You know," Bruce said after Steve ran out, "preemptively deciding to talk to him and offering your tutoring services while flirting isn't the best plan you've had."

Tony huffed, folding his arms across his chest. "In my defense, he's ridiculously dense. And there's nothing wrong with offering a friendly hand."

"If that's your idea of a friendly hand, I'm surprised he hasn't combusted by now."

Tony grinned. "He does run rather red, doesn't he?"

"I wouldn't know," Bruce said dryly. "I couldn't see from my vantage point at the door."

"You a voyeur, Bruce?"

"Only when it suits me." Bruce raised an eyebrow. "You aren't intending on just using him, right? The kid's got an obvious crush on you, Tony. It'd be needlessly cruel to string him along like that."

"Who do you think I am?" Tony asked, affronted.

"A playboy?"

"My dates know what they're getting into; I don't preach monogamy."

"Exactly."

"But I wouldn't do that," Tony said. "He's a looker, Bruce, and kinda smart. Though obviously not in the science department."

"Have you been stalking him?" Bruce asked resignedly.

"No," Tony said immediately. Then he rethought it. "Yes? Maybe? Does it count if I've memorized his schedule and gone to his classes?"

Bruce closed his eyes, reaching up to pinch his nose. "Yes," he said faintly. "That would count as stalking." His hand dropped. "Why on earth did you memorize his schedule? On what planet does that _not_ make you a stalker?"

"My planet?" Tony suggested. "Look, he doesn't know—"

"That makes it so much better."

"—and I haven't told anyone else, and I'm not _harming_ anyone—"

"You're just acting like a creeper."

"—and that big guy from the Mythology Department keeps invading everyone's personal space, so who's the creeper here?"

"Thor is Thor," Bruce said patiently. "They have different concepts of personal space where he's from. But it's well accepted that looking up other people's schedules and following them to class is inappropriate. Do I have to call Pepper?"

"No," Tony objected immediately.

"This is why you're here," Bruce pointed out gently. "So you get an idea of what's appropriate and what isn't. Just because Dummy likes to put hats on everyone and try to poison them doesn't mean you should do it."

"Dummy never means to poison anyone," Tony said defensively. "And I know why I'm here, okay? It's been kind of plastered all over my Inbox, so it's hard not to notice."

Bruce's tone softened. "I didn't mean it like that, Tony. Just…you know it's not the right thing to do; you just don't care. And that kid…Steve…he will care. He's not like us, Tony."

Tony exhaled slowly through pursed lips. "I know, Bruce. But a guy can dream, can't he?"

"It doesn't have to be a dream," Bruce said. "Just be careful. It'll happen on its own."

And while that was worthy advice, Tony thought it would be harder to do than Bruce thought.

* * *

Bucky was no help at all, Steve thought sourly. He thought it was absolutely hilarious that Tony had offered to tutor Steve, and that had been the end of that particular conversation because Bucky was laughing too hard to say anything coherent.

It was ridiculous. Steve wasn't _failing_, so why should he need help? He could probably manage to swing a B if he tried hard enough. Or a C. Just because he was drifting along in Peter's wake didn't mean he was completely incompetent at chemistry. He was managing a passing grade in the class itself on his own merits.

So _maybe_ he'd asked Bucky for some help on clarifying some of the topics, but Bucky's idea of help involved Google and copious amounts of alcohol, so Steve didn't count that as _help_ per se.

It was more like sabotage, really, because Steve had barely managed to pass the test the next day. He had no alcohol tolerance whatsoever to speak of, so it was a mystery as to how he hadn't suffered alcohol poisoning.

But the point was that Bucky had fallen off his bed laughing when Steve had told him about Tony and had – after he'd recovered – told Steve in very clear terms that unless he somehow got it together and confessed, Bucky was going to plaster STEVE HAS A CRUSH ON TONY all over campus.

Never mind that Steve and Tony were very common names and without a last name it wouldn't do much good. The sheets were going to be plastered all over the building where Connors's class was, and if _that_ happened, then Steve knew Tony would know exactly what was up. He hadn't exactly been subtle with his ill-disguised crush.

And if he had to be _alone_ with Tony…

Steve could just feel his skin burning up with the blushes that would follow.

* * *

By the time the next lab rolled around, Steve had worked himself into a bit of a nervous frenzy. Bucky hadn't appreciated being woken up four nights in a row when Steve couldn't sleep and had resorted to sketching out his feelings (meaning he drew a lot of Tony) and had made his feelings on this matter quite clear by waggling eyebrows and grinning lasciviously in Tony's direction whenever they went to class and he even so much glanced their way.

So when the promised lab came and Steve went, he was rather sleep deprived and jittery. Bucky had slipped some cologne into his pocket as he left, slapping him on the back in encouragement. Steve jabbed him in the gut with his portfolio, but did keep the cologne because it was pretty nice stuff. Absolutely not because of Tony.

That sorry excuse fell flat the moment he entered the room, as Tony instantly separated them and assigned them to individual tables.

"Fear not, children," Tony said airily from the front of the room. "If you've kept up with the work up to here, you can handle doing it by yourselves, right?" He didn't wait for an answer. "Because you'll be working on your own from here on out. Pretend it's preparation for grad school when you'll be pulling all those lonely all-nighters to write your thesis or dissertation."

"But none of us are chemistry majors," a pimply guy whose name Steve still didn't know said.

"I'm bio-chem major," Peter offered.

"Details," Tony dismissed. "You'll still be pulling all-nighters trying to get the coding just right or finishing that portrait"—his eyes drifted over to Steve here—"or creating the next genetically altered spider that'll bite someone and create a superhero who can climb walls."

Steve thought that was suspiciously specific for a hypothetical situation, but didn't comment.

"So!" Tony clapped his hands together once. "You know the drill. Directions are by the table. Ask if you need help, and I'll give you a zero."

As this was a threat Tony issued every week and never followed through on, Steve wasn't fazed. He did look down at the sheet Peter would normally have commandeered by now and instantly balk upon seeing the indecipherable symbols typed all over it.

This was what Peter had been doing for the last so many weeks? It was gibberish!

Steve thought he recognized the symbol for water and maybe the one for peroxide, and there might have been one for oil, but he had no clue what to do about it. Peering around at the rest of the room showed the others also looking blankly down at the sheet; only Peter was moving confidently, and it seemed like he was already halfway done, though this was probably an exaggeration since not even five minutes had passed.

Glancing back at Peter, Steve began picking out the same items he was using, looking desperately down at the sheet in case something had changed since he last looked. Alas, it was just as indiscernible as before, and his foggy sleep-deprived mind wasn't helping with deciphering the chemistry symbols Tony was so fond of using in substitution for plain English.

He just had to crush on a total geek and genius, didn't he?

Biting his lip as he began mixing together substances, Steve really hoped he wasn't going to create a mini-bomb. It shouldn't technically be possible considering the substances they had here, but he'd heard of an urban legend concerning a guy named Loki who had blown up an entire classroom because he'd been bored and wanted payback against the brawny football players who hadn't grown out of the high school mentality. And since that had happened last semester, Steve wasn't too confident in his abilities to _not_ create a bomb. There were always accidents.

Peering at the blue liquid he was now holding, Steve wondered if the label read peroxide or hydroxide. It could also be dyed water, but Tony had done that last time and he didn't like testing them the same way twice.

Deciding against smelling it after the last time he'd gotten a whiff of rotten eggs and meat, Steve glanced back at the instructions and then went for it, pouring it into the magenta-colored liquid he'd been making. It wasn't green like Peter's, so Steve knew he was doing – or did – something wrong, but it was a bit late to fix it short of dumping green dye into it.

Looking back at the beaker in his hand, Steve figured he couldn't possibly mess it up even more, so he just dumped it in.

Ten seconds later a horribly noxious smell started coming from his table. Steve gagged, swallowed, accidentally inhaled some more, and gagged again. By this time the smell had circulated around the room and the girl next to him had turned green and ducked below her table, where choking could be heard.

"Oh God." Tony sounded rather faint as he breathed in the noxious smell that had no description in English words beyond curses Steve didn't like to use. "Steve, what the hell did you do?"

Steve couldn't answer, as by this time he had thrown an arm over his nose and mouth in a futile attempt to ward off aggravating his asthma.

"Everyone out!" Tony yelled, darting over to where Steve was to check up on what had happened.

The class didn't need to be told twice. Most everyone had cleared out by the time Tony grabbed hold of a wheezing Steve and hauled him out, setting him down and demanding if he had an inhaler.

"In my b-bag," Steve gasped.

"Will this work?" the pimply guy asked Tony, handing over the same kind of inhaler Steve used.

"Yep." Tony snatched it and held it to Steve's lips. "Deep breaths, big guy."

Steve's hand fluttered for a moment before he grabbed hold of the inhaler and pushed down the top, taking a deep lungful of the medicine and holding it in. He took another lungful a moment later, exhaling in relief when he felt the iron clasp around his lungs give.

"You okay?" Tony asked softly.

Nodding, Steve rested his head against the wall, closing his eyes as he mentally counted to ten and registered the warmth that was Tony pressed alongside him. He hadn't let go of Steve's shoulders, which meant that his arm was a warm brand across Steve's back, and he couldn't help but shiver as his brain and treacherous hormones realized that his crush was _right there beside him_.

This really was not the appropriate time or place to be having these kinds of thoughts. And after he'd just sent everyone running out of the room because he couldn't understand the instructions Tony had laid out on the table.

"You wanna rethink the tutoring offer?" Tony murmured quietly, smiling as he caught Steve's attention.

Steve ducked his head, unable to meet his eyes. "Yeah." His reply was so quiet he couldn't be sure that Tony had heard.

But he must have, since Tony gave him another squeeze and then stood, telling everyone that lab was over for the day.

In the meantime, Steve just sat there and focused on breathing.

* * *

Tony sent off an e-mail to Connors explaining the fiasco in the lab so he knew why he'd dismissed class early. Then he sent another to Steve listing his office hours and other blocks of free time he had so they could schedule a tutoring session.

Because while Steve was swinging an A for now because of Peter Parker, he certainly wouldn't be having one a few weeks from now. Tony wasn't sure what exactly Steve had done to get the such smelly results, but it wouldn't take too long to figure out. And then they could move on from there and try not to replicate it. There were only so many times Tony could tolerate a God awful smell like that without spewing his guts all over the floor.

And, no, Pepper, just because he'd been blackout drunk a dozen times before didn't mean he was _used_ to chucking his guts out whenever he felt nauseous. Besides, he hadn't touched alcohol like that since taking the TA position, since it was irresponsible and would lead to all his psychologists tearing out their hair and demanding he be put into rehab and sign over control of Stark Industries because he was _clearly_ unfit.

As if.

Huffing slightly in annoyance at the thought, Tony pursed his lips and turned to the designs he'd been putting together for Obadiah and the board. It was a bullet that would detonate only when remotely triggered; it also had other uses, but the primary one was killing protecting people.

Considering he'd just cobbled it together over the last day, Tony thought it wasn't too bad of an idea.

Hearing a ping from his computer to signal a new e-mail, Tony brightened up when he saw a response from Steve. If he couldn't manage to keep the rest of his life in satisfactory order because his dad had kicked the bucket years too early, at least he could do _this _right.

Even if it wasn't technically legal. Yet.

* * *

Before he entered the lab room where he'd be meeting with Tony, Steve took several deep breaths for fortification. He'd bitten the bullet after receiving the e-mail from Tony and just said yes to tutoring. Now it was time for their first session, and Bucky had practically shoved him out the door with an inhaler, breath mints, and the explicit order not to come back unless he had something to show for it – preferably a hickey. Better yet, he should not come back at all because he was having forbidden sex with the TA.

Pushing those unhelpful thoughts out of his head, Steve took another breath before he knocked and slowly pushed the door open, peeking inside to see if Tony was already there.

"Come on in," Tony said, grinning as he saw him. He was wearing his white lab coat and had something that looked like blueprints laid out in front him, although he quickly set them aside. "Good to see you, Steve. You can put your stuff down. I don't think you'll be needing any of that today."

Steve placed his backpack next to the door before moving over to where Tony had set up equipment on a table. "What are we going to do?" he asked.

"I figured we'd go over what you should've done last time," Tony said, smiling as he waved the sheet of gibberish instructions Steve had agonized over. "Then we can start on what you didn't understand and how you _can_ understand it. Chemistry's easy, Steve."

"I'm an art student," Steve said, shrugging lightly. "Chemistry's never been my thing."

"I gathered as much." Tony handed over another white coat, this one more Steve's size than the one he usually wore. "But since this is general chemistry, everyone should get the hang of it."

"I just don't see the point." Steve didn't look at him, instead shrugging into the coat and straightening it out. "What am I going to use this for?"

"You said you were an art student?" Tony nodded once to himself as if confirming something before continuing, "How do you think they mix together paints or make pencils or that sketching paper you guys are so fond of? Or the clay that makes pottery or play-doh for kids? It all boils down to chemistry in the end."

"So you're saying that if I pass this course, I can make my own paints or my own clay." Steve thought he was doing remarkably well at carrying on a coherent conversation without blushing. Maybe it was because Tony hadn't smiled at him all that much or shot him any suggestive winks.

"Well, no." Tony smiled again, this one much brighter than the last two. Steve couldn't help but flush lightly, which in turn made Tony's smile even brighter. "Like I said, this is general chemistry. You'll learn the basic stuff. If you want more specifics, they get into that in higher level courses."

"I knew that," Steve said.

"Sure you did." Despite his words, Tony didn't sound condescending. "Take a seat. We'll get started on this. Try not to smoke us out this time."

Steve bit the inside of his cheek to stop the blush, focusing on taking his seat smoothly and calmly as Tony remained standing beside him. He could feel the heat from Tony's body even with the small distance separating them, though that shouldn't be possible.

Then Tony moved to stand directly behind him, arm brushing against Steve's as he set the sheet with the instructions down on the table. Steve had stopped breathing at this point, unable to believe how _close_ they were. He really could feel how warm Tony was from here; he could even feel him _breathing_.

Tony's voice was calm and unaffected. "Why don't you start with telling me what you see on the table and what the instructions are."

Swallowing thickly, Steve looked down at the table, eyes flickering over the different beakers and liquids. Then he glanced at the sheet and found that it still didn't make any more sense than it had two days ago even with the extra sleep he had under his belt now.

He thought briefly about lying, but knew that would just land him in even more hot water. "I don't know," he admitted quietly. "I've been kind of lost from the start."

Tony didn't laugh or say anything mean. He just reached out and began explaining what each different liquid was, what they did, how they reacted with each other, and what they were supposed to make. Then he began explaining the different symbols on the sheet and what the instructions were asking for.

At the end, he handed Steve a pair of goggles and put his on as well. "Think you can do it?" he asked, smiling.

Looking down at the table where everything actually made sense now, Steve licked his lips and nodded, taking the goggles. As he reached out and picked up a pitcher to start, Tony rested a hand on his shoulder.

For once, the contact and close proximity didn't make Steve jump, and his cheeks only heated faintly.

"I admit," Tony said quietly as Steve poured the liquid, "I did have an ulterior motive to tutoring you. There are probably some others who could use it more than you, since they have Fs."

Steve's voice stuck in his throat. When he managed to get it out, all he could say was, "What?"

"I like you," Tony said bluntly. It was probably only due to sheer dumb luck that Steve didn't spill anything. "And I think it's mutual."

"You _think_?" Steve didn't know how much more obvious he could have been, what with all the blushing he did whenever Tony so much _looked_ at him.

Tony huffed, his breath blowing past Steve's ear. "Fine, I _know_. I just didn't know what to do."

Steve set his stuff down on the table, not willing to risk another accident. "You've been flirting with me all semester."

"Flirting," Tony said. "Not talking. I don't do much talking with my usual dates."

Steve glanced askance at Tony. "Girls?"

"And guys." Tony shrugged lightly. "I don't discriminate. But you…I like you, Steve. And you like me."

Steve didn't say anything, staring down at the table as his mind raced through possible responses. Tony _liked_ him. Tony was _interested_ in him. This was definitely more than he could have hoped for in his wildest dreams.

But was he serious? Or was he just yanking Steve's chain?

Steve knew what the tabloids had to say about Stark Industries' next CEO. Tony Stark was a notorious playboy for all that he was only nineteen and in grad school. Then again, the tabloids were just that: tabloids. It wasn't like they were _true_.

Still, the pictures were there, and not all of them were photoshopped.

"I'm not looking for a fling," Steve finally said. He looked at Tony, surprised to see that Tony was looking right back at him with soft brown eyes. "And doing this right now wouldn't be right."

"You're right." Tony squeezed Steve's shoulder lightly before letting his hand drop. "But my friends have been telling me to get a move on or they'll steal my stuff, so I decided to do it. But the university's policy only applies as long as we're TA and student; once you're done…" He trailed off, raising an eyebrow.

"So we wait?"

"I can wait." Tony's lips quirked into a lopsided smile. "It's only a few more weeks until finals. We can get to know each other, and you can swing a B in Connors's class. You're not that badly off."

"Won't someone realize what we're doing?"

Tony shot Steve an amused look. "The administration isn't omniscient. At most, they'll think that we got to know each other during office hours and started dating later. There's no proof to suggest otherwise."

Steve inhaled, exhaled, and said, "Okay."

Tony had a very soft smile now, one that Steve hadn't seen before. He reached up to squeeze Steve's shoulder, still smiling. "Okay," he repeated, tone soft as well. "Okay," he said again, squeezing once again before letting his fingers drift through the hairs at the nape of Steve's neck. Then the hand dropped, and he was briskly saying, "So let's continue."

And Steve breathed, picked up the measuring scale he'd put down, and concentrated on his work.

He'd never thought about it before, but while chemistry could be used to make paints and other artsy supplies he used on a daily basis, it was also used to make love matches.

And he and Tony had some smoking chemistry.

(Figuratively speaking, of course, because he wasn't messing _any_thing up now.)

* * *

**How'd you like it? I think there were some scenes where I could've done more, but unfortunately the story wasn't really working there. I don't think I'll do another college AU; most of the fun in this fandom is the fact that these characters can do extraordinary feats.**

**In the meantime, go on over to horizon_lab's profile on LiveJournal and give her some love! She's captainshellhead on tumblr. :)**

**_Stats_: Word Count: **9,744; **Pages:** 26


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